


The Last Mission

by Red_Tigress



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Demon Genji Shimada, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Evil Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Gen, Halloween AU, Happy halloween, Like seriously this is VERY AU, Major character death - Freeform, The most AU thing I've ever published, halloween fic, some implied ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 07:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12576520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Tigress/pseuds/Red_Tigress
Summary: The Hunter recruits the Alchemist for one last mission. To save his Father.(Halloween AU based very loosely around Overwatch Halloween skins).





	The Last Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Please note this is VERY AU, and character portrayals don't necessarily reflect what I think about them in some cases (mostly the evil versions of the characters). Also this was not beta'd because I was in a rush to get this published today, but many thanks anyway to Meskeet who looked over some parts and encouraged me. All mistakes are mine, though. I hope you guys all have an exciting and safe Halloween, and I hope you enjoy this fic!

The wind whipped the tall grasses around the Hunter, and made his cloak flap noisily around his calves. Waves crashed on the rocky shore violently below him. The darkness of the stormclouds gave the impression of night.

The hunter shivered, pulling his cloak closer around him as he pressed on through the grassy cliffs. In the distance, a small, wooden cabin sat on the cliff’s edge. It looked precarious, like it be blown off the cliff at any moment. One window showed a warm light glowing inside, a stark difference from the weather he found himself in.

He took another step forward, stumbling slightly on a patch of uneven ground that had been hidden in the grasses. There was an extra sharp burst of coldness off to his side, as something drifted closer. A hulking, pale blue form seemed to drift effortlessly over the uneven terrain. It was a man, his features white and hollow, pale blue smoke drifting forward from chinks in his icy white armor. In his hands, he carried a great, monstrous hammer, as icy and foreboding as he was. He stared at the Hunter.

“Showoff,” the Hunter mumbled in a dry twang. The Wraith said nothing, and continued to keep pace with him as they made their way up the cliffside.

As they got closer to the cabin, the Hunter saw smoke drifting up from a short chimney, and being blown away in the wind. He turned towards the Wraith.

“Wait here.”

The Wraith said nothing, but stood absolutely still. Its own blue smoke, unaffected by the stormy winds, continued to seep into the air around it.

The Hunter moved towards the door of the cabin. It shuddered, locked in place but the wood was warped from years of ocean air and light seeped out around the edges.

He knocked.

The door violently swung inwards and was replaced a second later with a gun that he was staring straight down the barrel of.

He slowly raised his hands, grinning slightly. “Now, now, no need to be hostile. Just wanna have a little conversation, is all.”

The woman who was holding the gun did not look amused. Her single eye glared at him from behind the sights. “How did you find me?” Her tone was biting, but there was a slight hint of amusement in her Arabian accent.

The Hunter hadn’t moved. “It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. Now, it’s a might bit chilly out here, can I come in and we can have a drink like old times?” He gave her an easy smile.

She gave a huff of disbelief, but didn’t lower her gun. Her eye shifted to the ethereal form some feet behind him. Her brow rising was the only sign of her surprise, as her next words were calmer. “What…is that?”

The Hunter gave a deep, unhappy sigh. “Please let us in, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Slowly, she lowered her rifle. “Come on, then.” She turned swiftly, her long, white braid flicking over her back and whapping against the long, blue and black leather coat she wore.

“Much obliged,” he mumbled. He turned back towards the Wraith. “Come on!” he waved his hand. The Wraith came closer, the grass under its feet moving only from the wind and not its weight. He entered the small cabin, taking his hat off as he did so. He laid it on the small, two-person table that stood as the cabin’s centerpiece. A fire burned merrily in the hearth, belaying the stormy skies and seas outside and bathing the room in a rich, warm glow. Thin shelves lined all the walls of the cabins, full of glass jars and vials. Some had small candles burning lazily under them, the contents slowly bubbling. A few more rifles stood in the corner, resting against the wall under a gilded bird cage that had a bright green tropical bird in it. It squawked as they entered, but gave no outward sign it was bothered by their presence.

The woman reached up into a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of amber liquid and two small glasses. “I take it this one doesn’t drink,” she nodded towards the Wraith.

“No,” the Hunter answered taking a seat at the table. She sat across from him, pouring them both a glass.

“What happened to him?” she said softly. Her voice betrayed only acceptance.

“Killed.” The Hunter took the offered glass, rubbing his gloved hand across it.

The woman lifted her glass in a toast gesture towards the Wraith, who was standing silently by the door. She took a drink, swallowing thickly. “How?” she asked.

“The Witch of the Wilds,” he answered succinctly, taking a drink of his own. “She attacked his castle. He didn’t survive.”

The woman grimaced. “She has grown more powerful, if she was able to kill this one.”

The Hunter wiped his sleeve across his lips. “She has. She also has powerful allies.”

The woman hunched over the table. “Two demons from the Far East. I’ve heard.” She gazed off into the distance, seemingly transfixed by the weather outside the small window next to the door.

The Hunter’s attention abruptly shifted. “Where have you been?” his voice was quiet, pained.

“I didn’t want to leave, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” a tear begin to form at the edge of her eye and she turned away.

“We needed you, we _all_ needed you. Not just her. We all did!” The Hunter let his anger seep into his voice, trying to hurt her the same way he had been. He gestured angrily towards the Wraith. “Maybe you could have saved him!”

She snapped her head back towards him. “Maybe I could have! Maybe! Or maybe you could have! Or maybe we’d all be dead!” Her chair clattered to the floor as she leapt to her feet. “I lost my _daughter_! What _right_ do you have to come in here and tell me what I should or shouldn’t have done? Besides, you’re the one who has not let his soul rest! You are the one who dragged a rotting corpse to _my_ door, so don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t have done!”

The Hunter remained silent as the woman stood over him, breathing heavily. He sighed, bringing up one arm to clutch painfully at his hair. “You’re…you’re right. I needed him. I need you. There’s something I can’t do alone.”

The woman slumped back into her chair, nodding at his glowing, metal arm. “I thought you didn’t trust alchemy.”

“I didn’t use to trust necromancy either, but here we are.”

“You must be desperate. Alchemy, raising him, finding me…tell me you’re not planning what I think you are.”

He gave a desperate, manic grin that didn’t reach his eyes at all. “I know you’re gonna call me a fool.”

The Alchemist crossed her arms over her chest. “I haven’t yet.”

He sighed, the pained look taking over his face again. “She…has my Father.”

The Alchemist’s fingers stilled on the glass. “You’re certain?”

“She’s making him and the demon brothers raid the villages around the castle. They’re stealing things, killing people. He wasn’t always the best man, but this is…he wouldn’t…” against his will, the Hunter’s flesh hand began to shake.  He took a deep shuddering breath. “That’s not the kind of man he is. Was,” he finished softly.

The Alchemist reached forward and clutched his hand in her own, callused ones. “I know I’ve let you down,” she said quietly. “And it hurt me to do so. My grief…it has been overwhelming, at times. But know this.” She reached up and rested one hand gently on his face. “You are like a son to me, and I have not done right by you. So for you, and for my daughter, I will help you with this one last thing. Justice must be delivered.”

She looked towards the Wraith. “For all of us.”

 

They traveled lightly, only their weapons, a small bag of supplies, and the Wraith trailing behind them. He had been silent the whole way.

The Alchemist never asked the Hunter how he had achieved such a feat. Soon it would be irrelevant. They also didn’t speak of the Alchemist’s daughter. In fact, they hardly spoke at all. There was tension, but a solid understanding between them.

The whole way, the weather never let up. The winds seemed to only grow stronger the more inland they went. Soon, they found themselves trudging through damp, moss covered forests. The trees hung on to the last of their leaves, the smell of loam and rotting foliage permeating their senses. The tops of the trees shuddered and swayed in the wind, but at the forest floor it was almost silent.

They didn’t comment on this, either.

It wasn’t long after that they came to the fringes of the village. The sun had only just set, and what should have been merry, light-filled streets were instead silent and abandoned. A few lights shone in various windowed, but they were subdued and masked by curtains. They made their way down the middle of the main road. The only sound was the leaves rustling branches and shutters.

The found a tavern towards the end of the street. It had a few more lights than the other buildings, but not by many.

“You better wait around back. Try not to let anyone see you,” the Hunter told the Wraith. With no acknowledgement, it drifted away around the back of the building. The air felt a little lighter without its presence, but not by much.

The Hunter opened the tavern door, holding it so the Alchemist could step through. Inside, the small handful of patrons didn’t look up from their drinks, the atmosphere of melancholy permeating the room like a sodden, woolen blanket. They made their way back to a dimly lit corner and sat at a table.

Movement to their left, and downtrodden man came up to the table. He said something in German. The Alchemist and the Hunter frowned.

The man switched languages. “Visitors?”

The Hunter nodded. “Heard you had a demon problem.”

The man gave a nasty frown. “You can have a drink, but then you must leave. Our village has suffered enough.”

The Alchemist spoke up. “We’re here to kill them.”

“You can’t. No one can. They’ve tried, and all we have to show for it are ruined homes and a mass grave. Please leave.” He turned away.

There was the unmistakable sound of coins hitting the table. The man stilled.

“You said we could have a drink first. We want a drink.” The Alchemist’s voice was hard and unyielding.

The man shrugged, and went to the bar.

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” the Hunter said lowly to her. “Hollar if you need help.”

She gave him a wry smile, a hint of some of her old humor returning. “I won’t.”

He went back outside and walked towards the back of the building. He took out a cigar and a match.

He leaned against the wall as he lit the cigar, the hot, smooth smoke filling his mouth and throat as he did so. He could see the Wraith’s form outlined in the smoke he blew out.

“Anyone see you?”

The Wraith silently shook its head. Now that it was closer to its death place, it seemed stronger, more capable of dynamic movement. The Hunter reckoned it would probably be speaking soon.

“I saw it,” a voice said from the darkness.

The Hunter spun, gun out. Next to him, the Wraith silently clutched his hammer.

“Who’s there?”

There was a low chuckle, from next to a shed about twenty feet away. The Hunter still didn’t see anyone. “You did not think you could sneak a Wraith into this village unnoticed, did you?” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The person speaking had an accent he couldn’t quite place. But it wasn’t European. “Especially, a Wraith of a person I _know_ I killed?”

The person stepped into the light, his pure white clothing gleaming softly. It contrasted sharply with the deathly gray tone of his skin, and the black and red tattoos covering the exposed part of his chest and his left arm. His eyes glowed, and long black hair and a tie whipped in the wind.

“Demon,” the Hunter spat.

The Demon grinned at him, showing off sharp canines. “Indeed.” Something materialized in its hand, and with a start the Hunter realized it was an impressive bow. It was made of wood, but the wood was a dull red color, the color of old, dried blood.

The Hunter didn’t hesitate. He shot off two shots from his revolver, and the Wraith charged. A soundless cry of fury on its lips.

The Demon had dodged both shots and skipped out of the way of the Wraith’s hammer crashing down. There was an amused smile on its lips as it knocked and drew an arrow as quick as lightning. The arrow went through the Wraith’s form. The ghost stumbled slightly but brought its hammer up for a second strike.

The Hunter fired again, and the Demon twisted its shoulders out of the way of the bullet. It frowned at him and drew another arrow, aiming at the Hunter. The Hunter threw himself to the side, but he felt something catch in his coat, pull him off his trajectory and slam into the wall. With a start, he realized the Demon had planned on his dodge, and had fired his arrow to pin him to the wall.

Before the Hunter could reach up to pull it out, the Demon was upon him. He had crossed the distance between them so swiftly the Hunter hadn’t even detected it, and was now pinning both of his arms against the wall. The Demon’s hallow, glowing gaze pierced his, and this close he could see the tattoos over its eyes move slowly. “Wait your turn,” it smiled. “You and I will have our fun.”

“When’s my turn?” growled a voice to their right. The demon snapped its head around with a hiss, right into the barrel of a rifle. The Hunter had an interesting sense of déjà vu before the rifle went off in the Demon’s face. It screamed, stumbling away, but not dead.

“Thanks,” the Hunter said to the Alchemist. He yanked the arrow out of the wall and pointed to the demon. “Now!” he shouted to the Wraith. The Wraith ran, this time emitting a roar of fury and rage that seemed to shake their very bones with its haunting scream. It brought the hammer down.

The Demon rolled out of the way and onto its knees, bringing up its bow. The Hunter had just enough time to see its mangled face twisted in fury before a flash of blinding white light. Two serpentine forms erupted from the bow, pulling the Wraith away who gave another low scream of fury, and carrying it off. They dropped it, and the Hunter felt the impact of the of the fall in the Earth from the ethereal forces at work. The Wraith was smoking more than usual, like it had been lit on fire and left to smolder. It didn’t move.

The Demon bounced back and aimed its bow again. The Hunter felt the impact rush out of him as something hit him, and then he was bouncing along the ground. He realized the Alchemist had fallen on top of him. There wasn’t time to check on her, as he fired his gun again to keep the Demon at bay.

“I’m fine,” she growled as she clambered off of him.

He humped an affirmation and rolled forwards, reloading quickly as he did. The Demon dodged his next bullet but his roll had taken him close. He hit the Demon in the stomach then leapt up as it was stunned. His left arm glowed more strongly than usual as he wrapped his metal fingertips around the Demon’s throat and slammed it into the ground.

The Demon coughed up blood as it slammed against the ground, black as night.

“So you do bleed,” the Hunter sneered, taking in the Demon’s mangled face. It had one eye left, but where there should have been bone from the ruined socket, there was only darkness.

“ _Gaijin_ ,” it rasped. “You think you have won. You…are a fool. You…will never…”

The Hunter cut it off by leveling his pistol against its forehead and firing. It was quiet after that.

“Sick of listening to that drivel.” He stood up, turning back around. The Wraith was starting to climb to its feed, but the Alchemist was still sitting on the ground. He hurried over to her, kneeling in front of her. “You’re not alright.”

She gave a weak chuckle, as her fingers wrapped around the arrow shaft buried deep in her shoulder. “Can’t get good leverage on it,” she panted. He frowned. The head was buried fully in her flesh and as he peeled back the cloth of her shirt, he could see two tiny pricks where the reverse part of the head was already starting to cause more damage. More worrying still were the thick black tendrils that had appeared on her skin like veins around the wound.

“I’m gonna have to cut this out,” he told her. She nodded. “But…can you cure this?” His fingers brushed against the tendrils and she hissed in pain. He instantly pulled back.

“I don’t know. I can slow it down for what needs to be done.” The Alchemist pulled a vial out of her belt, and put it on the ground between them. “Use some of this, once it’s out.” She pulled her glove off with her teeth, and shoved it further in her mouth. Her eye met his, and she gave a curt nod.

The Hunter drew his knife, and sliced her flesh along the edge of the arrow. She thumped her head backwards against the wood, but didn’t cry out. He pulled the edges of the wound apart, wide enough he could yank out the arrow. The Alchemist only grunted as he pulled the head free, the tip oozing blackish blood as he did so. He threw it aside.

He cracked the vial on the cold, hard earth like an egg, the Alchemist’s formula dripping yellow and bright from the glass like the yolk. He smeared it liberally over the wound. The Alchemist was breathing hard, but otherwise made no noise. The black tendrils remained, but thankfully, didn’t grow bigger.

She spat her glove out of her mouth. She was paler, and sweat glistened on her face, but she gave a wry smile. “Childbirth is more painful than that.”

“I’ll uh…I’ll take your word for it,” the Hunter said as he helped her to stand.

The Hunter glanced at the Demon’s corpse, which had started to take on a boneless form and melt slowly into the ground. The Wraith, now standing, walked around it as if it had never existed.

“Sorry you missed your beer, but we can’t stay here,” the Alchemist pressed. She pushed herself to her feet, taking in a deep breath as she did so. The Hunter gave her a worried look, but said nothing. She gave one, last tired look at the Demon’s corpse. “I have heard, they used to be human,” she said quietly. “In their struggle for power, they killed each other. Their family. And thus, they were cursed.”

“Our goals are more altruistic,” the Hunter mused.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Still, an important lesson you shouldn’t forget.”

“I won’t let my father be used as a weapon to inflict horrors on others,” he spat back. She regarded him intensely, and he turned away. “I’m sorry,” he said more quietly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

She put her good hand on his shoulder. “That is alright. I also feel anger at the situation. Now come. We are not wanted here, and our goal is elsewhere.”

 They turned back towards the road, and under the full moon and cloudy, cold sky, they made their way North.

 

The Alchemist for her part kept a steady pace despite her injury.  The Hunter would give her a nervous glance from time to time, but either she didn’t notice or pretended not to.

The Castle was a few hours walk from the village, and by the time they reached the edges the moon had drifted low behind the clouds and the mountains in the distance. The wind kept up its speed, biting at their faces and making their clothes flap around them. As the profile of the castle began to grow larger, it’s shape black against the gray clouds in the sky, the Wraith became noticeably more agitated. It grunted and growled with each step, the metal plating it wore chinking together with an underlying sound like ice cracking.

The path to the front entrance was unattended, save for some gloomy candles along the ramparts that were now barely sputtering in puddles of wax. The Hunter and the Alchemist kept their weapons drawn, walking silently behind the Wraith who had taken the lead.

“Wait,” the Alchemist said, reaching out her hand to grip the Hunter’s jacket. He turned to her alarmed. “Before we go in there, I want you to promise me something.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he growled.

She shook her head. “You knew what you were asking me to do when you found me. You owe me this.”

He closed his eyes, breathing out a steady exhale as he did so. He nodded silently.

“Make sure, for me, for my daughter, for your father… _and_ for you…justice is served.” She pulled him slightly closer. “Swear it. On your life.”

There was no hesitation in his voice. “I swear it.”

She nodded, letting go of him. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear.” She gestured towards the Wraith again. “Lead on.”

They got to the huge, oaken doors of the castle soon enough. The doors were reinforced with wrought iron bindings, and several screaming figures had been carved into the wood. The Wraith reached out one ghostly hand, brushing its fingers against the door. The figures on it melted with a hiss, and in moments, the door had returned to its normal form. The Wraith gave a satisfied grunt, and pushed them inwards.

Before them, lay a long, stone hallway. Its floor was lined with a tattered red carpet, once grand, now faded. Braziers hung on the walls, but much like their counterparts outside, the flames were dying in pools of wax. In here, the wind was silent. The three wanderers moved towards the throne room.

They did not have to travel far, for another set of oaken doors stood in their way. This one had more screaming figures carved into the heavy oak. Like before, the Wraith moved his hand to touch them again. Like before, there was a hiss, but this time the Wraith’s fingers began to smoke and it jumped backwards with a howl of rage. It hoisted its hammer and with a mighty swing, brought it forward into the doors. They gave a crack like thunder, and wood splinters flew everywhere like an explosion.

The Hunter and the Alchemist shielded their faces from the onslaught, and waited for the dust to clear.

The Wraith stood in the doorway, panting harshly. It seemed transfixed by what was in front of it. The Hunter and the Alchemist flanked it, both leveling their sights ahead.

The Witch of the Wilds, cloaked in yellow and black capes and finery, relaxed in the throne with her legs crossed demurely in front of her. A satisfied smile was on her lips. On her left, the Eastern Oni demon stood. It was wearing a white mask, its features carved into a ghoulish smile. A long, fearsome weapon was in its hands. A giant, red eye on the hilt blinked at them.

On the Witch’s left, was the Reaper. His long black cloak matched the Witch’s, but his collar was outlined in red. Instead of his face, however, there was just a bone-white mask, carved with the features of an owl’s skull. Two large hand guns were gripped in his clawed fingers.

The two servants remained stock still as the Witch leaned forward.

“I’ve been waiting for guests,” she said, her voice calm and calculating. “Although I did wish you hadn’t have killed one of my servants. Both I and his brother were quite fond of him.” She glanced at the Oni, but he gave no notion he’d heard her words. “Still, casualties of battle. But you’d all know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

She leveled her gaze at the Wraith, but it was the Alchemist who shot first. There was a sharp crack in the hall, and then a metallic sound as the bullet hit something metal. The Oni had drawn his sword and deflected the bullet. He was standing in front of the Witch who was smiling. She got slowly to her feet, taking her broom in hand. The weapon (for it was a weapon) glowed with an unearthly yellow light streaming forth from its gnarled wood.

The Oni didn’t wait for a command, and rushed the Wraith. The Wraith howled, swinging its hammer through the air, but the Oni nimbly dodge. It seemed to practically run over the shaft of the hammer as it reached up, but a hand on the Wraith’s shoulder, and flipped over it. The Wraith grunted in frustration. It turned, but the Oni had already landed and slashed at its side as it did so. It bounced back quickly out of reach as the Wraith howled in anger.

A fluttering sound was all the warning the Hunter had before he had his own problems. The Reaper materialized n a cloud of purple and black smoke in front of him, already aiming at his head. The Hunter ducked and rolled as the shotgun glass missed him by inches.

“Don’t let her control you!” he shouted. His hand gripped his gun, but he didn’t fire. Not yet.

The Reaper for his part, didn’t reply. He lunged forward. The Hunter came up into a squat and pushed off the floor, right into the Reaper’s midsection. They both tumbled to the ground.

“Stop!” the Hunter pleaded. The Reaper, still not answering, gave him a savage backhand with his gauntleted fist that left the Hunter reeling and falling backwards. His gun tumbled from his hand, and he scrambled to grab it. The Reaper getting to his feet in front of him, guns still pointed at him.

There was a flash of blue, and the Alchemist leapt in between them. With a strength belying her age, she swung her rifle around and pounded the stock into the Reaper’s mask. He gave a horrible grunt of pain, stumbling backwards away from the onslaught. The Alchemist swung her rifle back around, keeping it trained on the Reaper. She didn’t look behind her. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, thanks to you,” he grinned, grabbing his gun. He looked back towards the Reaper, who was still stumbling away. The hand that had flown to his mask in pain was now coming slowly down, and he seemed to be looking around in…confusion? The Hunter frowned as the Reaper’s form began to wisp away, in black smoke. But then, that unearthly yellow glow seemed to mix with the smoky tendrils, and the Reaper stood at attention.

“Still work to be done,” he heard the Witch say in mock cheer. Her broom was still glowing. She turned her attention to the Oni, who was still dancing around the Wraith nimbly. Occasionally, the clang of metal on metal could be heard as the sword struck armor. But the Hunter and the Alchemist noticed in a few places, icy-white smoke seemed to be escaping out the chinks in the armor and was running down the Wraith’s form, heavier than the air around it. The Wraith was panting harshly.

“No more playing, finish it,” the Witch said sternly.

The Oni dashed high into the air and brandished its sword to fast to follow. It plunged the blade down into the Wraith’s exposed collarbone as it fell. The Wraith’s hammer fell from its fingers as it screamed a wordless cry of pain, fury and sorry. Light spilled forth from its wounds, so bright it was blinding. All at once, the light disappeared, the echo of a scream still bouncing off the castle walls. All that remained of the Wraith was the smoking hammer.

The Alchemist may have mourned her lost friend once again, but she was already acting on the immediate need for survival. She drew a small pistol from her belt and fired it at the Oni as it landed. It hit, dropping the Oni immediately. “Good to see he’s still mortal,” she said. “Hurry and finish it, we don’t have much time before he wakes!”

Before the Hunter could move, the Witch gave a cry of frustration, and the Reaper obeyed. He launched himself towards the pair, firing first at the Alchemist who barely dodged out of the way. She hit the ground on her bad arm, letting out a grunt of pain as she did so.

The Hunter fired a round between her and the Reaper. The shot grazed his mask and he flinched back in surprise. “We ain’t done,” the Hunter growled.

The Reaper whirled on him, and unleashed a fury of shots. The Hunter dodged a few, but cried out in pain when burning buckshot hit his thigh as he was rolling. He came up to one knee and fired at the Reaper’s face. This time, he didn’t miss.

The Reaper screamed as one eye of the mask cracked and splintered, the chips falling away. He stumbled back one hand clutching his face as he retreated in agony. The Hunter stumbled to his feet, moving to flank as the Alchemist did the same in the other direction. The Reaper turned towards him, hand falling away from his face as he did so. One half of his face was still covered by the mask, but the other…

A red eye that was once human, bore its gaze into him in fury. Dotting his forehead, and his scalp, other half-formed eyes had split the skin, and were blinking independently of each other. The Hunter could see also where the skin around his jaw had split, in a gruesome injury that only belonged on a dead man. Not only were the Reaper’s teeth showing through rotting muscle and flesh, but like the eyes there were more of them that went all the way up to his ear. Smoke wisped in and out of holes in his face.

The Hunter’s mouth went dry and he swallowed several times to keep down the bile.

“Now you see,” the Witch spoke, and the Hunter snapped his attention towards her. “What I had to do to keep him alive.”

“You only kill and maim and then you play with the pieces,” the Alchemist sneered at her.

“I admit, as my first he is…incomplete.”

The Hunter blinked. The Witch had done this to _more_ people? “You’re done,” he growled, the barrel of his gun clicking loudly as he reloaded. “I won’t let him be your slave.”

“Kill them,” the Witch growled.

The Reaper moved, faster than before as if some new power was behind him. He barreled into the Hunter and they went down in a tangle of limbs and smoke. The Reaper whirled one arm back to strike him with his gun, but the Hunter caught it. He held the arm between him for a moment, but the Reaper was slowly pushing down. If the Hunter let go, he knew the strength of the other man would smash his face in.

“Father,” he whispered. “Stop. Please,”

The Human eye blinked, and the pressure eased slightly.

“It’s me, it’s your son, I want to help you.”

The Reaper gave a pained gasp above him. “End…it…” he clenched his eye shut in frustration like it pained him to speak. The Hunter felt the pressure ease up more, and the muzzle began to turn back towards the Reaper’s own chest. It still moved slowly and shakily, like there were three people pushing it. “Please…” The Reaper’s voice came out as a rattle, unrecognizable from the man it once belonged to. And the Hunter understood.

He nodded, wetness prickling at his vision as he helped maneuver the gun towards the Reaper’s own chest. He didn’t feel the trigger, but he felt the kickback as the gun exploded between them. The Reaper howled in agony as he was blown backwards, collapsing onto the floor, unmoving. The smoke melted into the floor around them.

“No!” The Witch screamed, her broom a mass of swirling yellow light. It reached out for the Reaper, but didn’t touch him. The man continued to lay unmoving on the ground. “What have you done?”

She whipped towards them and the Alchemist raised her rifle. As she reached to fire, there was the sound of wet, tearing flesh. She gasped, looking down. A bloody blade protruded from her chest.

The Oni stood behind her, and there was another terrible sound as it pulled the blade from her.

She collapsed like a rag doll, silent save for her body hitting hitting the ground.

The Hunter didn’t pause, didn’t think. Time seemed to slow as his vision turned red and his head began to pulse like someone was clamping it in a vice and squeezing. The Oni and the Witch were the only things in his sight. He saw their faces with startling clarity even as the Oni moved towards him so fast the rest of its body was a blur.

Two shots.

The Oni stumbled, falling forward, and the Witch’s head snapped back violently. Blood spurted forward, and she crumped to the ground.

The Hunter stumbled, moving towards the Alchemist. She was lying face down. He fell to his knees alongside of her, gently scooping her up into his arms. Blood soaked her blue jacket, and dripped from her lips. Her one eye opened slightly. The Hunter frantically patted her down looking for medicine.

“No…” the word was almost too quiet to hear. “Did…my…part…” she gave him a small gruesome smile.

Tears streamed from his eyes. “I can’t lose you, not both of you.”

She reached up, but her hand didn’t make it to his face before her strength gave out. “Thank you…” she whispered.

She died, a look of peace on her face.

The Hunter lay her down and took the medicine from her belt. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, one last time. Then he gathered his strength, and moved towards the inevitable.

The haunting red eyes and teeth that had covered the Reaper’s face were gone. His flesh was now just a sickly pale color, and his breath came in short gasps. As the Hunter moved towards him, tears still running down his face, the Reaper sighed.

“I have medicine,” the Hunter breathed, fumbling with the Alchemist’s vials.

“Save it,” the Reaper said tiredly.

“Damn it, I’m fine, you need it!”

“Not me,” the Reaper breathed. “Help me up.”

The Hunter gingerly took the other man’s arms and looped him over his own shoulders. He stood shakily, his injuries and wariness taking their toll. The Reaper grunted in pain, but remained alert.

The Hunter froze as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It was the Oni, slowly dragging itself across the floor towards the Witch. The Hunter cursed, unable to reach his gun without dropping the Reaper.

But when the Oni reached the Witch, it sat up and pulled her body into its lap. It sat silently, not acknowledging them.

“There’s nothing for it here now,” the Reaper wheezed painfully. “It won’t trouble us. There,” he said indicating a door.

The Hunter obliged, and soon he was pushing open the great solid oak door. The door whined on its hinges as they walked through.

The room was small, the majority taken up by a stone table. On the table lay a figure, a figure that was eerily familiar. The Hunter gasped, unable to stifle a glance back towards where the Alchemist lay. The moved forward as the Hunter went to inspect the woman. She was breathing lightly, her skin a healthy copper tone and her long black hair braided neatly over her shoulder.

“How?” the Hunter asked.

“The Witch…saved her. Combined her life force with mine.” The Reaper sunk to the floor, leaning against the table.

“But…she tortured you, controlled you!” The Hunter spat angrily.

“To save her.” The Reaper closed his eyes. “But the rest is up to you.”

The Hunter leaned down, gripping the Reaper’s shoulders. “If I heal her the rest of the way, will you die?”

The Reaper gave a smirk, one that was comfortably familiar even on his mangled face. “Already dead kid. Just…took a long time. She’s worth it. So are you.”

The Hunter nodded, as he took the vial and loaded it into the small injector he had taken from the Alchemist.

His hands shook as he took one last look at the man he’d called his Father.

The Reaper gave him a calm smile. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered.

The Hunter inhaled sharply and nodded, tears blurring his vision. He picked up the woman’s arm and slowly injected the serum.

As he did, the Reaper gave a small satisfied sigh, not unlike the one the Alchemist gave. He slumped, lifeless against the table. At the same time, the woman opened her eyes.

She sat up slowly, taking in the Hunter. Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she gave a small smile. “Jesse?”

He nodded. “Hey, Fareeha,” and she leapt into him, her arms wrapping tightly around him.

 

Together they buried their mother and father in the courtyard of the castle, and made a monument for the Wraith. They were both out of tears to cry as they stood silently over the graves. The wind had let up, the clouds cleared, and the sun had just risen over the distant mountains.

“I’m sorry she never knew you were alive. It may have given her peace,” Jesse murmured.

Fareeha squeezed his hand. “She’s at peace now. You brought it to her. She was always very proud of you.”

“She was a hero of mine,” he said quietly. “Both of them were.” They turned away from the graves, looking out towards the town nestled below the castle. “So,” he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes. “What will do you do now?”

“Well,” she gave him that small, confident smile again. “The world could always use more heroes. What do you say?”

He grinned, tipping his hat. “That sounds mighty fine to me.”


End file.
